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Updated: May 1, 2025
Her eyes were heavy with lack of sleep, smarting with the bite of the north wind, which neither ceased nor eased until, towards ten o'clock, the carriage began to lumber downhill towards Two Bridges, under the lee of Crockern Tor. Beyond came a heavy piece of collar work, the horses dropping to a walk as they heaved through the drifts towards a depression between two tors closing the view ahead.
He spoke in an off-hand casual sort of way, and was rather proud of his knowledge until the boy laughed. "No, sir, that there is Crockern Tor. Cawsan' Baycon be right 'way 'tother side of Dartymoor, right 'long up in the narth, Oke'ampton way." "Is Crockern Tor as high as Cawsand Beacon?" asked Paul, more humbly. "I reckon not, not by a brave bit," said the boy, "but it's a purty place to go to."
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